The Milkman
by eyesocketsandsuits
Summary: [[ HongIce Oneshots ]] "You don't have clothes on," the milkman said. "Yeah, and you have a bowtie," Emil snapped. "Where's my brother's milk?" The milkman handed over the milk. Emil gave him the empty bottles from three days ago. The milkman leaned to his left, trying to catch a better look of the pool. "Is this, like, a summer gig?" Emil asked, crossing his arms.
1. The Fucking Milkman

Emil's brother was really fucking weird. Everyone probably said that about their brothers, but when Emil said it, he honestly meant it, meant it to the deepest fibers of his being. Emil's brother was one of those people who still read the newspaper, and who had a flip phone.

And who still hired a fucking milkman.

It was summer break, and it was around a million degrees in the sunny suburbs of Arizona. Emil was in his boxers. He had filled up the kiddie pool. It was in the middle of the living room. He was sitting in the water, playing with the ice cubes.

Lukas was at work, and Emil was melting. The satellite dish had probably melted, too, because none of the TV stations were working.

Lukas worked for a weirdo. A weirdo who moved his workers around the country like he was playing checkers. The two brothers had started in Maine, then hitchhiked to Ohio, then down to Mississippi, meandered their way through Colorado.

Lukas hated the heat. He hated the new school he was going to start, hated that his brother's boss was crazy, and most of all he hated the fucking milkman.

There was a knock on the door. Emil wanted to hiss, but he dragged himself out of the kiddie pool instead and answered the door. The milkman raised an eyebrow. The milkman thought he was God's gift to the world.

"You don't have clothes on," the milkman said.

"Yeah, and you have a bowtie," Emil snapped. "Where's my brother's fucking milk?"

The milkman handed over the milk. Emil gave him the empty bottles from three days ago. The milkman leaned to his left, trying to catch a better look of the pool.

"Is this, like, a summer gig?" Emil asked, crossing his arms.

The milkman shrugged. "Yeah, sort of. My adopted-dad was a milkman, and he wants me to be a milkman."

"Oh." That was fucking weird. "You have a Kik?"

The milkman was a fucking loser. His family was all messed up—even more than Emil's, so that's saying something—and he thought his Snapchat story was a lot cooler than it actually was. The milkman's name was Leon, or something. He had, like, two names.

The milkman was sharing Emil's kiddie pool.

"So, it's just, like, you and your brother?" Leon asked. The milkman asked.

"Yeah." Emil returned from the kitchen, cups of ice at hand.

"You lived in Maine?"

Emil dumped the ice on the milkman. "Yeah, when we first moved here. It was, like, awesome. It was snowing, and it almost seemed like our home. But then Lukas' fucking boss made him move. Sucked."

"My adopted-dad is from England."

"Cool. Hey, should you, like, deliver the milk?" Emil collapsed into the pool, sighing contentedly.

"You guys are the only ones who order milk."

Lukas chose this time to walk into the living room. The brothers looked at one another, having a silent conversation. It was mainly Emil yelling at Lukas to just walk away.

"Why is the milkman sitting with you in the kiddie pool?" Lukas asked, playing with his car keys, face deadly calm. "Did he at least bring milk? Also, we're moving."

The good thing about Lukas' boss being a crazy son of a bitch was that he didn't care when Lukas brought a third member along. That was probably because Lukas' boss was a gangster, or something.

Lukas terms for Leon joining them: bring all the milk bottles.

"Milk tastes better when it's from glass bottles," Lukas explained.


	2. Grinding (W DenNor)

Emil's brother had brought him to a club. Actually, that wasn't true. Emil's brother's _boyfriend_ had brought him to a club, and Lukas had just sort of tagged along. Emil assumed this was a ploy by his brother to make Emil forgive him.

Emil and Lukas had lived together in a small, cozy apartment. And then, one day out of the blue, a man with ridiculous hair and an axe moved in. With Lukas. Apparently, this was Abel. Emil couldn't ask any questions about this arrangement, but now he woke up to the sound of loud, angry sex.

He was pissed, to say the least. Emil and Lukas had a nice set up before that buffoon came to ruin everything. Poptarts filled the cabinets, the axe had usurped the painting over the couch, and now there was a second file named 'Honest Able' on all of Emil's videogames. Who this man was or where he came from was a mystery.

The thing that bothered Emil the most was that Lukas hadn't mentioned Abel at all. Not one word, a snippet of chatter, had given Emil any idea of Abel's existence. But he had been there.

Emil had snapped last night, after a month of suffering. Screaming, a broken vase, Lukas watching passively from the doorway, and the three of them had ended up in this shitty, shitty little gay bar—club.

And— _Jesus Christ_ —the grinding. It was like everybody in the entire place was trying to violently hump while still in their clothes. Emil, while enjoying the music, faced the bar and wondered if he could _actually_ hear the fabric rubbing together, or if it was just his imagination.

Another drink suddenly appeared in front of Emil, and a man sat down next to him. He raised an eyebrow at Emil, probably wondering why he was sitting alone at the bar.

"Fuckin' grinding," Emil responded—well, _said_ , gesturing behind him. "I don't want creepy people touching me."

"How old are you?"

Emil grumbled into his drink. "My I.D. says twenty-one; good enough for the man outside. You?"

The man shrugged, turning in his seat to observe the swaying mass of people. "Why'd you come here if you, like, don't want to be touched by anyone?"

Emil looked over his shoulder just long enough to make sure Lukas and Abel weren't grinding behind him before following the man's action and turning to face the crowd. It suddenly dawned on Emil how cute the stranger was.

Emil shrugged, swirling his drink around. "I… Uh, enjoy the… The culture."

The man opened his mouth, eyebrows slightly drawn together.

Or course Abel would come blundering over. Emil spun so fast on his chair that he fell out, hitting the man before landing heavily onto the ceramic floor. Abel stood over him, laughing and ordering two drinks.

"Easy with the alcohol, there!" Abel chided, holding the drinks in one hand and patting Emil's head with the other.

As quickly as he had appeared and ruined everything, Abel was gone.

Emil pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes for a moment before standing up. Running away isn't a proper adjective for what Emil did, but it was close. He pushed at the people blocking his way. The cold air felt like a blessing when Emil finally reached it.

After angrily pacing up and down the sidewalk a couple of times, Emil collapsed into a bench near the club. Abel was his ride home.

Emil watched the empty road, slowly cooling down. Hugging his knees to his chest, he watched the cars drive by. It was drizzling. Emil pulled the hood up from his sweatshirt. He didn't even notice when the man from inside sat down next to him.

"I'm Xiang—Just call me Leon, it's easier."

Emil breathed out his nose, hiding his eyes by pressing them into his knees. "Emil."

"Was that your boyfriend?"

Emil let out a harsh laugh. "No, my brother's douchebag."

Leon was silent for a moment. "Want to get back at him?"

"What?" Emil finally looked up, returning to a normal sitting position and facing Leon.

"We could make out," Leon suggested, voice losing strength towards the end.

It was such a dumb suggestion. It was a stupid suggestion really. Somewhere, in the very back of Emil's mind, he wondered if this was how Lukas had met Abel. Abel definitely seemed like the type of man who would drunkenly ask to make out with you.

Emil swung his leg over Leon, straddling him. A second later, their mouths collided. Tongue and teeth—which hurt and sucked—and Emil pulled out his phone, taking a photo of them. Leon pulled back when he saw the flash, but Emil returned his phone into his pocket, turned Leon's head back toward him and continued their session.

The picture was all over Facebook the next morning.


End file.
